


Gladiator Duty

by SuperClark_BatBruce



Series: Voltron One-Shots [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bad nurse, Caretaking, Courage, Cryochamber chills, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dehydration, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flirting, Fluff, Gentleness, Hugging, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Keith has bad bedside manner and forgets basic things, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mutual Pining, Perfect, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Sharing water bottles, Shiro gets hurt, Shiro holds grudges, Shiro is perfect, Shiro is stubborn, Showers to warm up, Teasing, Touching, Worry, keith helps, keith is stubborn, so much pining, to be fair Shiro's buck ass naked so you can't blame him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 23:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7552078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperClark_BatBruce/pseuds/SuperClark_BatBruce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro gets hurt during battle and when he comes out of cryo, he's a bit worse for wear. Keith helps out getting him to his quarters and they talk and do cute stuff and almost try to out-care for the other?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gladiator Duty

**Author's Note:**

> A one-shot RP written by sonxfkrypton and doyoubleedxyouwill on tumblr
> 
> The "-" denotes where each writer started/finished

The battle had been long and hard and Keith had thought more than once that they weren’t going to be able to pull it off. They had, of course, just by the skin of their collective nose but that was still a win. Their injuries, however, left much to be desired. Pidge had pretty bad whiplash when Hunk and the yellow lion got blasted into the green lion and Lance wouldn’t stop yammering on about his new-found ice gun. It was all well and good but Keith was more concerned about Shiro. Shiro had taken quite the beating on the enemy ship when he’d gone in to sabotage their defence systems so their weapons would have an effect. He’d only been saved by black lion getting him the hell out of there and now here they were, Pidge just coming out of cryo Lance and Hunk hovering over the poor kid as they headed out to get some food goo, Shiro still locked away, healing. 

“You should get some rest, Keith, you all did a bang up job, you deserve it.” Coran’s friendly shoulder squeeze was less than welcome but Keith didn’t bother shrugging him off.

“I’m fine, I’m going to wait for Shiro.” 

“As you like…” Coran headed out, turning back once at the door with an unreadable expression. It wouldn’t have mattered as Keith’s eyes were still locked on the floor, oblivious to everything but his own thoughts.

He shouldn’t have let Shiro go alone, should have done more to go with the stubborn guy instead of letting himself be convinced that they needed the red lion out there safely drawing fire. If he’d have just listened to his gut none of this would have happened and Shiro would have been safe. Keith sighed heavily and ran his hand over the back of his neck as he moved to the cryochamber control panel, wishing he could read Alteran better so he knew what he was looking at.

“Come on, Shiro…” he mumbled quietly as he silently accepted the fact that they had done the right thing and that if he’d disobeyed Shiro’s orders who knows what would have happened or who would have been hurt or, worse, killed. Patience had never been a virtue of his to claim and right now, waiting for Shiro to get good enough to spit out of the cryochamber was trying what little patience he had.

-

There was a complex series of calculations and a manual chock full of intergalactic chemical biology that explained why cryo pods did what they did so well. Princess Allura had explained it once, going into so much detail that Pidge had probably fallen a little in love. Shiro couldn’t say he cared. He was happy to chalk it up to magic. 

Shiro was more familiar with the hard sciences than the average human, but he really wasn’t up for discussing why and how quantum physics could bring a man back from the brink of death and still leave him feeling like he was stuck in a wormhole. He woke in increments, just as slowly as the rising pressure within the cryo pod that blood started pumping through his limbs once more. Everything from the bruises on his upper arm to the fractures on his ribs and the broken toe he’d gotten on a bad landing had faded away like they’d never happened, but Shiro still felt like he was being held together by string and glue.

There plan was good, as good as infiltrating a heavily armed military ship could be, given the circumstances. The details of their mission came sluggishly, and Shiro was aware enough to know that he could demand them but preferred to let them come at their own pace. The last few moments were the most important. A quiet word of praise for Pidge. Laughing too loudly for Lance. Rolling his eyes in annoyance he didn’t really feel for the last of Hunk’s nerves. Let them think they were back at the Galaxy Garrison for a little while, let them think they’d beat the simulator at record speeds. Let victory feel like triumph, and not just another step in a journey that might take longer than a dozen human lifetimes.

Then there was Keith, Keith who never really needed anyone to hold him up, but was so much better for it, Keith with his intense stare and calm facade. No one would guess at the storm that churned beneath the surface, as quick to anger as it was to care. Shiro liked to think he knew Keith enough to notice though.

Shiro was always surprised by how cold he was, when he realized he was cold.

The cryochamber opened, and he took an unsteady step out, string and glue straining to hold his legs as he blinked the frost from his lashes. When he realized he wasn’t alone, Shiro stood just a little bit straighter. “Did you get stuck on monitor duty?”

-

The quiet hiss of the air hydraulic release snapped Keith back into the present and he moved to the cryochamber as relief washed through him. Just seeing Shiro’s face, even after a relatively short time, had Keith’s heart in his throat, his pupils a bit more dilated than normal. He knew all about the aftereffects of the chamber and kept quiet so Shiro could get his bearings though his hands hovered and he was ready to step in if he was needed.

He could see the exact moment Shiro realized he was there, the way he straightened his spine, trying to hide the likely noodle-leg way he was feeling. Keith didn’t blame him, how could he? Instead he offered a more-casual-than-he-felt smirk and shook his head. 

“They could have tried but I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t wanna be…” he took a small step forward, reaching out and resting his hand on Shiro’s left arm, “Cold? Warm showers work the best…” he could feel the cold sucking away the heat from his hand and he wished he could wrap himself around Shiro to warm him up. Anything to mitigate the guilt he still felt though he had thoroughly rationalized his actions. If it happened to get him bodily close to Shiro in the process? Well, who was Keith to complain about that?

-

Keith was humoring him. Shiro thought that more often than not, and he had no way of knowing how accurate his assumptions were, but he never could quite shake that belief. It was in the way Keith’s smile curled at the corners, but his eyes burned with laser sharp focus. Even if Shiro was imagining it, he was grateful. There was someone who could let him build himself up, to whatever peak the sum of his parts could manage. He didn’t want to be proved wrong.

He took quick inventory of the other pilot’s injuries, noting the change into civilian clothes but not treatment gear. Shiro couldn’t quite smile until he’d reassured himself that his memories hadn’t been playing a trick on him, and Keith wasn’t hurt.

“I appreciate it. I feel like I stepped into a snow cone, but nothing you know how it is.” Shiro leaned into his grip, like he couldn’t quite help himself, convinced that he could feel his heat through Keith’s clothing. Wishful thinking. “You were good out there today. Yesterday.”

-

Shiro’s eyes seemed to rake over his body and Keith was sure that he could feel it. The heat in his face increased a bit as Shiro leaned into him and his smile dropped on one side to something more self-depreciating and lopsided to try and shrug off the praise as he slowly guided Shiro out of the pod heading towards his quarters. 

“Just following your lead, Shiro,” he mumbled, keeping his hand on Shiro, telling himself it was for the other’s sake and not purely his own selfish motives, “We couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t been able to get their shields down.” 

They walked slowly, Keith hyperaware of Shiro’s state ready to ask for a break for himself if the other needed it. He marvelled at Shiro’s ability to lead them, to say what each needed to hear, to rally them when they started to doubt themselves. Even back at the academy, Shiro managed to inspire others, certainly Keith, but almost every other pilot he knew looked up to the guy. That they were now teammates, fighting and flying together, it was a veritable dream come true.

-

Shiro’s smile twisted into something more arch, like he was trying to hide a bitter taste in the back of his mouth, but for the most part, he accepted the compliment with grace. It was meant as a private gesture, too vulnerable in the moment, something reserved for the privacy of slow recovery days. It was almost funny how easy it was to welcome Keith as part of those days, too. His eyes drifted towards the hand on his elbow. He couldn’t find anything lacking.

“We’re going to have to work on that strategy. Not our best one.” He commented idly, just a hint of modest humor creeping through the words. “Have you gotten any rest yet?”

Shiro asked, tone giving away that he already knew the answer. There was a reason Keith made such a great pilot. He was gifted with raw talent, but it was his determination that honed it into skills. Unfortunately, that meant Keith sometimes sent far too much time on his feet. That had been true back when he was a cadet, and now, Shiro had the pleasure of knowing that remained while he was a Voltron pilot.

-

Keith’s eyes rolled as he snorted quietly, opening the door to Shiro’s quarters and moving his hand to the middle of his back, pushing gently to steer him inside, “I’m fine, I’m not the one that got ambushed by Galran soldiers… sit…” he left Shiro’s side and moved to the panel on the wall, pushing a few buttons to open a compartment that held towels and bedding, identical to in his own quarters. 

He grabbed a towel and kept talking, “Might be good to have some strategy sessions, like you said, but we gotta make sure Pidge and Hunk get back in their lions sooner rather than later.” It was light talk, inconsequential really, more just making noise than saying anything Shiro wouldn’t already know. Keith wasn’t really one for small talk but he wanted to buy a bit more time with Shiro before leaving him to his shower and rest. His fingers picked at the edge of the towel, betraying his itch to say other things, things he could never say, “You remember the fight, right? Your head didn’t get scrambled too bad?” he added in the same light tone that Shiro had used, still not handing the towel over. 

-

The room was almost spartan, the bed made with hospital corners and every inch tidied with military-grade tidiness. It was impersonal, except for the lone shelf just by the linen compartment, that was peppered with souvenirs from the friendlier side of the galaxy, stones that shone with more colors than the human eyes could process, trinkets that shimmered when touched, cloth that left human nerves tingling. It was a small collection, but Shiro didn’t mind that Keith got to see it.

“It’s not a good strategy to let your team mate push twenty hours without rest,” Shiro mentioned idly, a jibe just as much as it was a suggestion, and they both knew he was only estimating at hours. Time in the cryochambers passed quickly, and it didn’t look like Keith had gotten any rest while he’d waited. 

Shiro liked to think he didn’t fall into bed, but it was a close thing, and he reached out almost immediately, fingers skimming the back of the other pilot’s wrist, as if to close the distance between them. Some weights were best shared, and Keith proved time and time again that he could be who Shiro needed. Long before Voltron. Some things hadn’t changed. “Keith… Thank you.” He pulled away, but slowly, leaning back on his hands to ask, “Status report on the others?”

-

Keith almost corrected Shiro’s timeline but figured that 22 hours was not better than “pushing twenty” so he said nothing. They both knew that he went too far sometimes but he really was fine. He wasn’t injured and his fatigue was mitigated by the fact that Shiro was awake now. There was always something refreshing about Shiro that made Keith sit up and pay attention no matter how tired he might be.

He stilled at the light caress on his wrist and he licked his lips quickly as he watched Shiro lean back, “Best to worst: Lance discovered a new weapon which he won’t shut up about, Hunk had a few bruises from all the hits he took but he’s good, and Pidge’s whiplash was fixed in a couple hours on ice. Coran and the Princess are uninjured and, last I heard, were working on repairing the ship.”

Turning towards Shiro, Keith sighed, “But really, you should shower and rest, Shiro… cryochamber’s are great and all but they don’t make you perfect…” Preaching to the proverbial choir, he knew, but he had to say it anyway, and damn any hypocritical angles to what he was saying, “You need to take care of yourself right now, okay?”

-

“Hello kettle, nice to meet you.” Shiro countered easily, and somehow, it was easier to smile. Keith smoothed down feathers that Shiro hadn’t known were ruffled, bringing a breath of fresh air when everything felt so achingly stiff. He hadn’t even changed out of his cryochamber suit. 

He still took stock of their injuries. It was nothing the chambers couldn’t handle, and they were relatively minor enough for Shiro to put off meeting up with the team until morning. No one wanted a debriefing right now, and he trusted that Princess Allura would have handled any pressing issues.

“You know, you let Lance get under your skin. He’s not too different from this other cadet I once knew,” Shiro added, but there was pointed meaning behind his grin that sharpened its corners into something more playful. Keith’s hair had been shorter back then. He’d been so cocky, but far less sure footed, still at the mercy of all his frantic energy. A kid. It had been a long time since Shiro had seen that kid. 

While he appreciated the things that had remained, the things that were different between them burned through his mind. Shiro wasn’t conceited enough to consider either of them veterans, but he and Keith weren’t quite like the others, not just based on the number of hours they had logged on flight missions and he would never consider it a difference in skill, but going through the program changed you. Prepared you for something bigger. 

They’d been training for a long time.

-

Shiro’s smile flipped all the right switches in Keith but he chuckled as he grumbled under his breath suitable ‘ya, ya, ya’s and ‘whatever’s to brush off the comparison between him and Lance. He paired up a posturing, offended sort of drawing himself up with a playfully tossed towel at Shiro’s face, careful not to fastball it, still aware that Shiro wasn’t running 100%.

“Go on and hit the showers.” came the purposefully avoidant reply, “I’ll see you in the morning at breakfast.” 

He stepped forward, hand raising before he realized what he was doing, stalling out as his eyes went wide while his mind tried to think of a suitable excuse for what he had been about to do. He changed tactics quickly, patting Shiro on the shoulder with a laugh before high-tailing it out of the room and into the hall. 

Once the door closed with a quiet hiss, Keith let out a breath and wiped his hand over his face, “God, Keith, pay attention.” Shiro had been right, again and of course, Keith needed sleep. Something that would come easier now that Shiro was safely away in his room and not playing a popsicle in the medbay. Heading back towards his own quarters, Keith stretched his arms over his head and allowed himself a wide, rather loud yawn before shaking everything out and slumping a bit. It was then, when his hand pressed on the control panel to open the door, that he remembered Coran’s instructions about the kitchen and that he hadn’t told Shiro. Somehow the food goo machine was on the fritz because of the fight and they had to use the kitchen on the other side of ship. If Shiro decided to go for food he might use the wrong one and cause chaos. Turning on his heel, Keith started the trek back to Shiro’s.

Not that it was a terrible thing that he maybe might accidentally catch Shiro in his towel coming from the showers or anything but he certainly didn’t want there to be an intergalactic incident involving food goo if it could be avoided.

-

Shiro took the towel to the face with a dramatic groan, never mind that he could have caught it out of thin air. His ribs were probably better than new anyway. He watched the other pilot walk away, like he could guard Keith’s back as well as Keith guarded his. “Good night, Keith.”

The words followed his friend out the door, but it was only after it shut that Shiro’s shoulders slumped and he rested heavily against the side of his bed post. Cryopods - miracle heals and hangovers without all the fun. He shuddered under the chills that stubbornly clung to his bones, his eyes heavy and lidded. Nothing sleep wouldn’t cure, but that didn’t stop him from feeling nauseous when the room spun.

Without anyone around, he kicked off his suit, leaving his clothing in a heap on the floor. By morning, everything would be stowed in the proper cleaning receptacles but right now, he couldn’t be assed. Shiro turned the water on to scalding, let it try and chase away the ice in his veins and rested his head against the tiled wall. Thick steam rose into the air, it felt like it thickened with every inhale. Shiro told himself he’d only need a few minutes, if he could close his eyes for a little while, regroup, it would do him no harm.

By the time Keith had returned, Shiro still hadn’t moved.

-

Keith bounced on his toes as he waited for Shiro to answer the door, giving him more than enough time, in Keith’s estimation, in case he needed to get his towel around him or clothes on or, oh god, what if he just came to the door nak-… Keith shook his head and cleared his throat, opening the door as Shiro’s name dying suddenly on his lips when he was hit with a wall of steam.

“Shiro?” he called out, a bit of alarm creeping into his voice at this point. That much steam for the amount of time he’d been gone? It didn’t seem right. What if Shiro was passed out? What if he’d hit his head on the tile and was bleeding out, “Shiro!” Keith ran the short distance to the shower and stopped in his tracks when he was met with a fully naked Shiro, leaning against the wall.

For a moment, time stood still and Keith’s pupils blew wide as his face flushed though he could easily and successfully chalk it up to the billowing heat from the water. The _water_ that was currently running down Shiro’s back in the most enticing rivulets, his skin a bright pink from the temperature of the water, running down the valleys between muscles, down, down until it came to his ass and was forced to chose between two equally wonderful paths. Keith didn’t understand how it could choose. How could you possibly choose between A) the perfection of running down over the full, muscular globe of one of Shiro’s ass cheeks or B) the utter indulgence of running down through the shamelessly inviting divide between the two? It was impossible.

It was then that the reality of the situation hit Keith and he stepped back, horrified at his behaviour, not even sure how long he’d been staring at Shiro’s ass and he scrambled to get it together. Shiro might be not okay. “Shiro, you okay, buddy? Lookin’ a bit too much like a tomato than you probably should…”

-

“Keith…” Whispered warm against the pilot’s throat, tickling the skin above his collar as Shiro pressed his cheek into the other man’s shoulder. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone held him like this. Pidge had her moments, and Hunk was always so physical in both his affection and affront, but Shiro wasn’t completely sure he could count on his legs to stop trembling. Keith felt like the only thing holding him up.

“Should’ve seen this coming,” he with a self-deprecating huff, slowly running his hands down the length of Keith’s back as he straightened his posture. Shame burned across his features, but it wasn’t strong enough to send him running for a towel just yet. “Not my finest hour huh?”

When he pulled away, every movement was careful, tentative, and he an a wet hand across Keith’s shoulder before settling it where his cheek had been. He hated to ask. The truth flickered briefly across his features, but when Shiro spoke, his voice never wavered, “I’m going to need a little help. Getting to bed.”

-

Keith’s heart was pounding and it definitely wasn’t just from the adrenaline rush from being startled by Shiro’s fall. He barely suppressed the shiver that ran through him hearing his name on Shiro’s lips so close to his throat and he tightened his grip. He didn’t want to let go.

It was inevitable though and as Shiro straightened, Keith shifted his weight slightly to provide counterbalance, keeping hold even when he was pretty sure Shiro would have been able to stand on his own. Shiro’s hand was on his shoulder, right where his cheek had been, a little lighter but the memory of the weight of his head wouldn’t go away easily and the hand seemed to trap it there. They were still so close together, Keith’s hands on Shiro’s arm and waist as he scanned his face, watching for any signs of deeper or more concerning medical distress. He could see the embarrassment there and wished he could make it go away. There was no shame in needing help.

“Yeah… ‘course,” he smiled, cavalier attitude not quite there as he stepped in closer, the hand at Shiro’s waist sliding along his back to the other side as the other rested over his belly, “Lean on me as much as you need, ‘m stronger than I look.” he chuckled lightly, trying a bit too hard to make things okay as he stepped slowly, letting Shiro set the pace.

-

It was slow work, and Shiro didn’t trust the rhythm of his feet, quietly cursing the suit he’d left behind, a ridiculously formidable obstacle as he limped along. At the edge of his thoughts, something darker lingered, a memory he didn’t want to revisit of bone-deep exhaustion and aching limb, but back then, he didn’t have anyone to support him. 

“We have to stop meeting like this.” He joked softly, thinking about his first moments back on Earth, where panic and dedication warred with unimaginable relief. Keith had a bad habit of coming to his rescue. Shiro didn’t think he would ever be able to thank him for all that he owed.

He tumbled into bed and pulled his sheets up instinctively. The warmth of the other man’s body was already missed. He never wanted to be seen this way. In the arena, weakness was a sign of death, and before that, he was just as cocky as any cadet who thought he could touch the stars, but if someone had to be by his side, he was glad it was Keith, and his heart clenched, because in that moment, he missed him more than he could put into words, missed the boys they used to be when injuries meant lying on beaten practice mats and cursing clumsy stimulators. 

“Thank you.”

There was so much more Shiro should have said. Keith needed rest as well. Having either of them collapse wouldn’t do anyone any good, and even if they thought they were in neutral territory, their enemies weren’t always considerate enough to grant them rest days. They might need to be up in an hour, or less, but Shiro wouldn’t take it back.

“I don’t want you to go.”

-

Keith did his best to kick the clothes out of the way, unable to make himself laugh at Shiro’s joke though he managed a small huff as he frowned at the way the other fell into the bed. “Stop getting hurt then…” he muttered quietly, eyes moving over Shiro’s exposed skin as if seeing the scars there for the first time. He careened between hating each and every single one of them to loving them. It was as if they mocked him for not being there for Shiro, not being able to help him, fight with him, save him from the horrors he was put through. But each one also spoke of Shiro’s strength, of the sacrifice that he made helping Matt stay out of the area, of his will to survive no matter what. It was the same with the prosthetic arm, love and hate, and Keith figured he still just needed time to understand it all. Time he probably would never have no matter how much he wanted it. 

Shiro’s words brought Keith back to the present and his eyes snapped up, locking on to Shiro’s face. “I… don’t want to go either…” Keith swallowed thickly, not sure if Shiro meant it the same as he did, and he smiled lightly, “But you really need water…. probably some goo, too, if you can stand it…” he sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed and picked at some invisible lint on the sheets, “I could… I mean, I could get someone to bring it? Hunk or… Coran’d do it.”

All of the things he wanted to say were snarling up inside of him and he reached out a hand to place a single finger on Shiro’s elbow, needing at least one point of contact to try and still his racing heart, “You gotta get better faster.. got no one else to spar with…” it was a lie, technically, but the truth was still a bit too raw in his throat. 

-

“I’m going to be okay. This isn’t as bad as it looks, I just need some rest and water. There’re a few bottles on the bottom shelf, in the wall cabinet.” Shiro murmured gently, as if Keith was the one who needed comforting. 

He sounded more sure now that the world beneath him had stopped spinning, but Shiro still couldn’t piece together why he’d asked. It was a moment of weakness, old memories dredged up in comfortable familiarity, from a time where everything was simpler. The Kerberos mission had changed so much, and Voltron had done even more, but Keith still had the same bright gleam in his knowing eyes, and Shiro had missed him more than he knew how to say. 

Shiro had gotten a second chance at life, a second chance to see the universe in a new light, with his best friend by his side. He made to reach out, to draw Keith in, for what he didn’t altogether know, and metal fingers brushed on the inside of Keith’s elbow. The contrast was jarring, alien alloy against human flesh. It sent his hopes crashing around his ears.

Things were different now. Keith was still the same brilliant prodigy, the best damn pilot Shiro had ever seen in the Garrison, but he was older now, sharper, wiser. The biggest loss the Galaxy Garrison would ever have. And Shiro had nothing good left to offer him. 

His expression remained steady as he watched the other paladin, but he noted his wandering eye with hazy realization and slowly, carefully tugged his blankets a little closer.

“Clothes wouldn’t hurt.”

His voice still softened when he spoke up again, a desperate need to alleviate the weight on his chest, where his heart used to be. He was sure it was in Keith’s possession now. Maybe it always had been. “I appreciate you looking out for me, Keith. You always do… I don’t thank you enough.”

-

The fingers of Shiro’s prosthetic arm were still warm from the shower but smooth, rigid, unyielding like the rest of his body and Keith wanted to reach out and press his hand against his chest, just to reassure himself that he was really real. His eyes had been straying along the ridge of Shiro’s arm but when Shiro shifted and pulled the covers closer over himself, Keith blushed furiously, and it was all he could do not to pull away. Not only did he not want Shiro to get the wrong idea that he was pulling away because he was using his Galran hand but he just didn’t want to lose another point of contact. The appreciation was too much.

Letting out a soft breath as he smiled and moved away from the bed, waving a hand dismissively, Keith went to get the water and some clothes. “Only doing what you do, Shiro, it’s nothing…” he brought back two bottles and some soft pyjamas, setting them down and stepping away, turning his back to give Shiro some privacy, “Really not doing a very good job when I don’t even ‘member to get you  _clothes_ …” he deadpanned it but there was a hint of a smile that softened it a bit, “I just.. you know,” he was looking down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers, “Wanna make sure you’re.. okay… I mean, we all gotta watch out for each other now, right? We’re teammates… we’re a squad… we’re… all we got.” _you’re all I have_ were the unspoken words as Keith sighed heavily and rocked his weight from foot to foot, “You decent yet?”

-

“It’s not nothing. You mean a lot to me, Keith.” Shiro countered, too faint to be an argument, but he needed to say it all the same. Keith couldn’t know how important it was to feel like there was someone to lean on. It had been him for a long time. The arena was a cruel place, and even if there had been those who’d wanted to help him, their prison was designed to alienate the strongest links within prisoner ranks and to destroy them. Now he had a team to look out for him, a team who depended on him. 

And Keith. Shiro never had to wonder where Keith was. He was always guarding his back.

He worked his way into his pajamas, determined not to need assistance, before downing half his water bottle in a single gulp. It was impossible to feel better so quickly, but Shiro imagined he did. 

His hand brushed against Keith’s arm after he asked, signalling that he was okay. “Here. You could use some.” He said, handing him a bottle of his own and slowly shifting on the bed, giving Keith room to sit. It was a deliberately casual gesture, and Shiro wasn’t entirely sure Keith would take it. Yet with a small, teasing smile, he added, “We can work on your bedside manner later..”

-

Keith could hear Shiro moving about, getting into the pyjamas, and he tried to focus on that instead of the echo of ‘ _you mean a lot to me’_  that wouldn’t stop repeating over and over in his head that nearly made him confess things that shouldn’t be confessed. Focus on the soft sound of fabric against skin, the low hum of the ship, the finally dissipating heat from the shower. He was doing _so well_ until Shiro touched him, causing a short out in his mind as his face heated up even as he demanded that it not. _Focus_.

Taking the bottle, Keith took in a deep breath, looking from the spot that Shiro moved to make for him to the other’s face to the bottle and back again. He snorted out a laugh at the joke about his bedside manner, feeling some of the tension he was imagining evaporate like the steam from the shower. Plucking Shiro’s half empty bottle out of his hand, Keith replaced it with the full one, quirking an eyebrow in a dare to defy him. 

“Bedside manner,” he scoffed with a wide smile before taking a big swig from Shiro’s bottle as he maintained direct eye contact, “Dunno what you mean but you better drink that.” he emphasized the ‘that’ with a nod of his head towards the unopened bottle now in Shiro’s hand as he sat down very determinedly beside him, making sure they were in actual contact as much as possible along their respective legs and shoulders.

-

It was all along Shiro’s right side. The paladin tensed despite himself, holding his breath for a tragedy that never came. Instead, Keith’s warmth bled through the luxurious Altean pajamas their generous hosts had provided, until the rich fabric felt like nothing between them. Their knees knocked easily as Shiro tested their boundaries, carefully resting his ankle against Keith’s. He didn’t think anyone was as comfortable around his prosthetic as Keith was. That mattered. That counted.

Surreptitiously, he moved his water bottle to his left hand, so he wouldn’t have to jostle them.

“Terrible,” he sniffed with mock-resignation. It would have worked, but all Shiro sounded was fond. “Florence Nightingale would be so disappointed. It’s a good thing you’re an ace pilot. The Garrison messed up big time.”

Bitterness laced his tone. Shiro hadn’t let go of his grudge. He’d trusted the Galaxy Garrison with everything, and they’d betrayed him, and turned their back on Keith. Keith could have been a rank officer by now. Shiro fully believed he would have gone farther than him, by leaps and bounds. 

-

Keith couldn’t stop smiling, especially since Shiro was playing along so well acting all indignant. The way he shifted his foot so their ankles touched, it gave the game away and, as Keith leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees so he could look back at Shiro over his shoulder, his eyes glistened with a mix of cheekiness and pride.

He’d been about to ask who Florence Nightingale was when Shiro dropped the bomb about the Garrison and his smile faltered as his brow furrowed lightly. He had just gotten over himself and now he was retreating again, unable to stop it any more than he could stop a ship crash he was witnessing. Turning his head down, Keith swallowed hard and slowly started shaking his head, “They were right to kick me out.”

It wasn’t something that he talked about often, or ever, really, but the months after the Kerberos accident had been hell for him and he hadn’t dealt with it particularly well. The Garrison could only be expected to take so much and, after so many infractions, so many skipped classes and failed tests, what were they supposed to do? 

“You don’t know what I did so just….” the next sigh was heavily resigned and when Keith looked back at Shiro, his smile was small but tinged with gratitude, “Besides, if I’da been stuck there I wouldn’t have found the lion’s energy signature… or you.”

-

Shiro wondered if Keith knew just how bright his cheeks got when he was flustered. He wasn’t an exceptionally expressive person on most counts, kept his cards close to his chest more than anything else, but when he blushed, it spread all the way to his ears and gave too much away. It was how Shiro knew he’d said the wrong thing. He wanted to reach out, take back the last few seconds, but he couldn’t. All he could do was rest his hand on Keith’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze before he pulled away.

”You’d have found a way. You’re resourceful like that. Stubborn, too.” Shiro said, tone carefully light, but his smile didn’t dampen his concern. He continued in the same tone, letting Keith read what he wanted to in his offer. “You can talk to me about it, if you want to.”

But it was all too clear that Shiro didn’t think the Garrison had done enough.

-

Keith watched Shiro carefully, seeing the same caring senior cadet that he remembered. It made his heart break, knowing what Shiro had been through how he still reached out to help others, to make sure he was okay, to give him an ear to talk to and a shoulder to cry on if he needed it. It was tempting but now didn’t seem like the right time. They were both exhausted and they both needed rest and having a conversation like that needed them in a better headspace.

He missed Shiro’s hand as soon as he pulled it away and Keith couldn’t help following it back, his hand moving between them as he shifted himself just a bit to turn towards the other, tucking one leg under himself. “I know.” Keith said simply but it was honest and he believed Shiro completely, “But you still need to rest, Shiro, so…” he smiled lightly, eyes drifting down to the collar of Shiro’s shirt where his fingers were playing with the edge of the fabric, not even remembering reaching out but not pulling away when the heat of Shiro’s skin warmed the backs of his fingers, “You should do that…. the resting thing, okay?” He would never deny the fact that he was stubborn but it wouldn’t dissuade him from still actually  _being_ stubborn.

-

Shiro froze, but leaned into the touch, breath coming to a stuttering halt as gentle fingers brushed across his clavicles. He found himself leaning into Keith’s hand, eyes falling shut like they were too heavy to keep steady. He reached out with his left hand, skin brushing against skin as he stroked along the inner curve of Keith’s wrist. He didn’t push Keith away. He couldn’t imagine it. 

“That’s good advice. I think you should take it,” Shiro murmured, voice still caught in another lilting tease, intimate though it was. There was no one else who’d hear them. It felt too good. Toeing the line to overwhelming, and Shiro struggled to remember the last time anyone else had been so close. For a year, he’d craved contact, but was forced to keep his distance. No one could be allowed close enough to slip a knife between his ribs, but Keith would never hurt him. Ever since Shiro had woken up, Keith had watched out for him.

He fought to find the right words, swallowing down the nerves that burned along his tongue, before he asked, “Your room’s a way off. You don’t have to go…”

-

The reaction that such a simple touch drew from Shiro was beyond fascinating and Keith watched, wide-eyed, as his eyes closed and his breath seemed to catch in his throat. It was then that the realization hit him and he wanted to ask but he couldn’t. His tongue stopped working. Shiro had been gone for a _year_. A _full year_ of fighting, _actually_ fighting just to survive. A year with no friends to watch his back, no moment’s rest, and it killed him. Sure he’d been alone in the desert but that had been by _choice_. He still had the ability to connect with other people if he’d wanted it. Shiro’d had no choice. 

“Shiro…” Keith breathed out quietly, his brow furrowed as he pushed aside all of his childish self-doubt and focused on his friend. The friend that had, for the second time, asked him not to go. His head shook lightly as he gently pushed against Shiro’s chest to get him to lay back, shifting himself around and following him down, making sure that his arms were around him, loose enough so he could move if he wanted to, “I already said I’d stay,” he reminded gently, “Is.. this okay?” It wasn’t the most comfortable position but he had faith they’d work it out.

-

Shiro moved easily, falling back into his bed. His fingers twitched to push his boundaries, but he watched with guarded eyes as Keith moved against him. His friend was a warm weight against him, gentle like so few people believed he could be, and Shiro shuddered. He couldn’t help himself, and he slid his arms around Keith’s waist, pulled him even closer as they settled against each other. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe, quietly noting all the places they came together, where their hips brushed, their legs touched. Keith was warm and solid against him, toned muscle playing beneath his clothing, endless potential ready to unfurl but docile for now. 

“I like this,” Shiro murmured, and it felt like a confession, felt like the gateway to absolution. He didn’t know why Keith stayed, told himself that his kindness was enough, but the possibility of something else made his heart soar. His fingers just skimmed under the hem of Keith’s shirt, a whisper of movement over smooth skin.

He didn’t dare curl closer, but the possibility of more had bloomed across his thoughts, gaining weight every time Shiro spent too much time thinking about it. Instead he turned into his pillow, helpless to hide the smile that tugged on his lips.

“Don’t worry. I’ll stop asking.”

-

There was a pause and for a moment, Keith thought he’d gone too far, that he’d misread everything, but all the fear disappeared when Shiro pulled him in even closer and he inched himself in, adjusting his arms accordingly and sighing lightly as he licked his lips and tucked his chin down a bit to hide the heat he could feel on his cheeks. He took a chance and slid his hand up Shiro’s arm, massaging his shoulder gently as he tired very hard not to think about how close they were. 

It was impossible, of course, Keith was inescapably surrounded by Shiro. All he could see was Shiro, he could feel every move of his muscles, the little tickle of his fingers over the sensitive skin on his hip. His ‘ _I like this too_ ’ died in his throat as he inched just slightly closer, hiding it in a faux change to help his balance. They were breathing the same _air_. 

“Tonight.” Keith clarified quietly as he swallowed hard and forced himself to look up into Shiro’s eyes, “You can stop asking _tonight_ only….” the implication that he should ask on other nights seemed clear enough and Keith held his breath, wondering if that was finally the line, the wall he would run up against. He had never been one for praying but he found himself doing just that, begging someone, anyone, for Shiro to not only understand but to want the same.

-

“Oh.” Surprise lilted along the word, his eyes widening a fraction and he couldn’t look away from the intensity of Keith’s gaze. They were so close he could see where flecks of brown broke through his startling purple eyes, and it made Shiro squirm. It hadn’t been like this when they were at the Garrison, hadn’t been this demanding, this inescapable. They were different people now, and Shiro thought that maybe he could finally be okay with it. “I can do that.”

It was a promise in its own right. None of his nonchalance was convincing enough to stick, but he guessed Keith could forgive him for it. Shiro had to fight the urge to reach up, to follow the length of Keith’s spine and bury his fingers in his hair, had to fight to keep everything he wanted to say locked in his chest because he had this. It already felt like he was flying too close to the sun. “Good night, Keith.”

-

There was surprise but there was no line, no wall that came up to slap Keith back into place and he smiled with a small nod to his head. He was sure that Shiro had never looked at him like he was currently looking at him and it made his belly flutter with excitement when he agreed. It was the moment they both left their mutual cadet days firmly in the past and took a small but important step forward, together. Much had happened to both of them in the time they had been apart and they would need to learn and relearn things about each other but Keith was sure it was doable. He was sure that it was what he wanted and he would do his utmost to make Shiro see that it wasn’t a mistake. Keith almost wished there was a way to do a sort of direct link upload but that would be cheating and it would rob him of the best part of the journey, the discoveries themselves. 

“G’night, Shiro…” Keith murmured quietly and he shifted once more, getting just that much closer as he bowed his head down so he was tucked in under Shiro’s chin and sighing heavily. 

There, in the safe warm circle of Shiro’s arms, Keith slept, nightmare free, peaceful and serene through the entire night. Their enemies didn’t have to give them a night off, of course, but things worked out serendipitously for the two paladins, the universe conspiring to give them that one extra little gift so that their newest odyssey, their new joint quest to find and heal each other’s hearts, would start out on the right foot.


End file.
